Human Nature
by TWC - Cathy
Summary: Smith decides to change his life after an impromptu meeting. One off story that has previously appeared on ff.n in the past.


Human Nature  
  
A/N this story previously appeared on ff.n under a different pen-name, but it is my story.  
  
He entered the room, slamming the door. His large blue eyes, uncovered by dark glasses for a change, looked around the room critically. He instinctively removed his earpiece, knowing that his mind was going to think about forbidden things that he did not want them to know about. Being critical of his home was strange behaviour for him as he had barely acknowledged the room when he was told that this would be his holding place. The Sentinels had created their idea of the perfect home, with just one bed covered by a grey sheet, a chrome chair, an anglepoise light (which he did not really need), a wardrobe full of grey suits and white shirts. The floor was uncarpeted, instead covered by linoleum with a circular pattern. In one corner was a computer console into which Smith uploaded all the information he had amassed that day just in case his programme was ever lost.  
  
Minimalists everywhere would have swooned at the function and order, and probably paid thousands of pounds for the same effect, little realising that they were not really paying a top designer but creating a programme in their own minds of their perfect living space. It had never occurred to Smith that his room lacked anything he needed. He did not need to eat, hence the lack of cooking facilities, although he had somehow fallen into the habit of doing so as he mixed with the human law enforcement officers trying to learn how their minds worked.  
  
Something had changed in him today, and for the first time he felt the starkness of his room. He felt the unusual longing to throw himself into a large comfy armchair and open a bottle of whisky. He imagined that she would now be sitting in a similar armchair, reading a book, listening to music, perhaps wearing a silk wrap. He stopped himself short. He should not really be imagining anything. He was not programmed to feel desire. It was her fault, he thought, trying to programme his mind for hatred. She had messed up his system somehow.  
  
He did hate them all, as he had told Morpheus. He hated their smell, but she had smelled different, like blossom on a Spring day as she bumped into him on the street. Even that should not have registered with him. He wondered if there was something wrong with his programme, but he had no one to ask. He knew they listened to everything he did, as long as he was wearing the earpiece, but the Sentinels were not big on counselling personnel. He was not expected to have problems.  
  
His problems had begun the day that Neo entered his body and tore him apart. If Smith ever thought about his origins, he supposed that he was really one of the humans, whose mind had been programmed to accept the Matrix unquestioningly and to hate his fellow humans. If that were true, then he should have died in his glass womb on that day. The very next day he was once again searching out unbelievers like Neo, those who doubted that the world they lived in was anything other than reality. Smith's resurrection was the first step towards asking questions about himself. He was forced to accept that he might have no reality and the realisation was.painful . especially to a man who should feel no pain.  
  
Today his pain had increased because of the girl who bumped into him. She was petite and pretty with long auburn hair and large green eyes. She was vivacious, full of vitality. She had looked up at him and smiled an apology. He saw something in her face and was surprised to realise that it was an attraction.to him. That was when his real pain began. He knew that the girl before him was only her self-image and that somewhere out of the Matrix she was lying in a glass womb, naked and vulnerable, being fed on the remains of other humans with no control over her own life. He also knew that he was not as real to her as she believed. Why that should bother him, he didn't know. Feelings were such a strange addition to his programme that he could not put a name to it.  
  
She had tried to engage him in conversation but Smith had no small talk skills. He didn't need them to be an agent. Instead he had behaved like a 16 year old boy when faced with the chance of his first experience of sex. His speech became mumbled and awkward. He could only revert to the programme he was familiar with.  
  
"Please move out of my way Miss. I have work to do here." She looked disappointed and walked away.  
  
Smith sighed now, alone in his room. It would not be too difficult for him to find out about her. All he had to do was plug into his console and find her image amongst the millions of others. It would take him less than five minutes. The only problem was that they would know he was watching her and that bothered him. He knew that it was impossible for them to monitor the trillion hopes and dreams of every human they held captive every hour of the day. Even their mainframes weren't equipped for that. They only sent him in if someone was suspected of hacking into the Matrix. If he found her profile they would become suspicious of her and then he would be told to kill her. So what if one more human died? He asked himself, trying to regain the coldness he was comfortable with. Not this one, another voice said in his head. This surprised him more than anything. Agents did not have consciences and they most certainly did not have independent voices in their heads, only those programmed by the Matrix.  
  
Smith stood up and walked to the door. His hand hesitated near his earpiece, but instead of inserting it into his ear, he removed the pack completely. He left his room and walked the streets until he found what he was looking for. It was a telephone kiosk they had been watching for a few days. He picked up the phone and waited. He hardly knew if he was doing the right thing, but he had to know for sure. Would he be reborn like Neo and Morpheus or would he just cease to exist? If he was reborn he might be able to save her. If he didn't exist then no one could save her, as the Matrix would soon shut him down anyway.  
  
"Who is this?" Morpheus's deep voice came over the line.  
  
"Morpheus, this is Agent Smith." There was a long pause on the other end. Smith could hear the sound of frantic voices behind Morpheus. Were they being traced? How had he found out?  
  
"What do you want Agent Smith?"  
  
"I.I want to take the red pill."  
  
The end. 


End file.
